


Wizards and Witches and Snakes: A Story of Untrue, Gibberish Things

by WritingMage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Incomplete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:48:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12096087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingMage/pseuds/WritingMage
Summary: Hermione Granger is seventeen. Hermione Granger is seventeen and perfectly normal. Hermione Granger is seventeen and perfectly normal and sometimes feels that the world's askew, like somebody changed everything inside her room and she just can't tell what. Until she saves a homeless man who speaks gibberish about wizards and witches and snakes and magic. It is gibberish.., right?





	Wizards and Witches and Snakes: A Story of Untrue, Gibberish Things

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE HARRY POTTER FANDOM OR ITS CHARACTERS, BUT I DO OWN THE PLOT AND THIS CHARACTERIZATION/INTERPRETATION OF THE HARRY POTTER STORY AND CHARACTERS

It starts with a seed. At least, that's what she thinks.

* * *

**PART 1:**

Hermione Granger is seventeen years old when she first hears the word magic and believes that it actually means anything. Well, actually, she doesn't believe that it means anything at the time, but what she does believe is that there is a man in very serious need of psychiatric attention, maybe even a doctor. The purple bruises stretched across his arms and hands seem much too painful, especially given the man's already unhealthy pallor.

It begins as she stands on a street intersection, glancing at the owl hidden among the park trees. There is a noise. No, not just a noise. It has been a loud honking noise from a car, and the man behind the wheel gives Hermione a nasty look.

"Get out of the way already!," he yells. Even from the distance, Hermione forcefully tamps down a shiver of revulsion. Rotting teeth and oily hair, those are the man's only distinguishing features. Hastily, Hermione crosses the street. This isn't London's crowning jewel, she knows, staring at the sludge and the litter and the homeless. The sooner she leaves, the sooner she'll be home, safe.

Then, Hermione sees him. Well, to be more precise, that's when Hermione runs into him, a man. A man who had been standing on the other street, blond, haggard, barely a wisp of being. Another homeless man, maybe dangerous. Those are the only thoughts that Hermione has. Then, the man starts blabbering, and despite her own instincts, Hermione looks up to the man's face. There is something familiar in his voice, and that sense of aching familiarity compels her, forces her. She cannot resist any more than a moth when faced with the sun. As Hermione looks up, she can't help the feeling that perhaps it really was a bad idea to come out today.

As he speaks, Hermione only vaguely registers the nonsense that spews from his mouth. Something about magic and wizards and witches and snakes. Turning away, Hermione feels a dull dud in her chest as the flickering familiarity completely extinguishes. Hermione doesn't know this man. She doesn't. Where, how, why would she? This man is surely a drug addict, maybe crystal, she thinks. There's no other explanation for his delusions, and her upper middle class dentist family have no reason to know this man. This man who is just another homeless person on the street, she thinks, clutching her bag tighter to her side.

Of course, it is that knowledge that raises her hyper-awareness of the man to fever pitch. She hears him step closer. In three more steps, he'll close the gap between them, and that can only mean trouble. She can run, and as she prepares herself and propels herself from the balls of her feet. She hears the sick sound of a body falling against the cold, December concrete.

His limbs are strewn across the sludge, and because of his paleness, he almost looks like a snowflake. Pale, delicate, breaking. She should just leave him there, whoever he is. He could be simply pretending, or maybe he's having an attack. Narrowing her eyes at the crumpled man, Hermione crouches to check his pulse. She knows she shouldn't, of course. She really, really shouldn't. By crouching, she'll be in an even more vulnerable position to some other men lurking in the shadows, to this man who may only be playing on the sensibilities of a well-dressed girl. Nevertheless, she presses her fingers against his throat. It flutters against her fingertips, like the thrumming of hummingbird wings, only weaker.

It only takes a moment of indecision before Hermione slings the man's arm over her shoulder. His weight bears on her, but at the very least, whatever malnutrition he suffers from only makes it easier for to stand upright against his weight.

There'll be another block of walking before they even near the bus stop, and already, Hermione feels the strain of carrying a man who's at least a foot taller than her. Grimacing, she pulls out her phone and dials a number. The call is answered after the last ring.

"Hermie, what's up with my favorite Know-It-All?"

If she could, Hermione imagines that she'd already be pinching the bridge of her nose or clenching her fist with the blooming irritation inside her. Even still, she feels a tug of fondness at the nickname, her only nickname. "I need a favor, Charles. I'm near the park- you know which one. Can you come give me a ride?-

"-A ride!," he interrupts abruptly. "Are you alright? Did something happen-

"Please, no. I would have sooner called the police. No, there's just a man, and I think he may need medical attention-

"Hermione..." She hears the heavy sigh through the telephone. "I'm going; expect me in fifteen."

As they wait, the man leans heavily against her, sliding in and out of consciousness. For a few moments, he's lucid, but mostly, he continues babbling. Wizards and witches and snakes. Wizards and witches and snakes. Wizards and witches and snakes. The words play in her head like a nursery rhyme, falling in a happy cadence. He speaks again, and the little nursery rhyme in her head lengthens. Wizards and witches and snakes and magic. Wizards and witches and snakes and magic. Wizards and witches and snakes and magic-

The close grumble of an engine shocks Hermione from her stupor. Unsteadily, she walks to the little car, Charlie's car. As she opens the door to slide the man in, she can feel the heavy disapproval of his gaze. So she simply concentrates and the cold clamminess of the man's hands before going to the other side of the car.

"Hermie," she hears Charles say, "why exactly am I driving a homeless man to the hospital?"

"Your last charitable act before the new year?" Hermione stares out the window to the little sticky dots falling from the sky. Pale, delicate, breaking. The silence tenses and relaxes and morphs into a vise around their throats before Hermione finally opens her mouth again. "I couldn't just leave him there, Charles. It's cold and snowing. If he didn't catch hypothermia, at the very least he'd have suffered frostbite-

"Like many others will," he interrupts, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

"Just drive, Charles."

**Author's Note:**

> Original Posting Date: September 14, 2017
> 
> Prompt: N/A
> 
> Word Count: 1055
> 
> Note: This was an experiment. And it is riddled with incorrect character interpretation (probably) but I think that in this AU, it'll suit. As for the inspiration, it started with pomegranates. I have a pomegranate tree, you see, and I decided to harvest last night. As I lay in my bed unable to sleep, I realized that I would love to write a Hades-Persephone story maybe with a Tom/Hermione pairing, or a Draco/Hermione pairing. Then, as I typed into my phone's notes, the story started morphing itself before my very eyes. What can I say? I'm a sucker plot bunnies that hop off to explore freely on their own. So it probably isn't what you think. Hopefully, this will be very short. Let's hope no more than five to ten chapters.
> 
> This is my reintroduction to fanfiction after taking a hiatus. (I do that too often, don't I?) And unfortunately, I always give you the same excuse, my personal life. Rest assured, that excuse is always true. What also is true is that all those open stories I had? I have so many chapters for each and every one of those, but when my personal life gets away from me, well, I rather not update at all, especially given how busy I am even without including fanfiction, which is for my personal enjoyment and also for yours.
> 
> So please, please, please, leave me a comment, say hi and what you think, any conspiracy theories you have for this story ;) , maybe remember me, maybe just start reading my writing. Thanks for reading! I'll update soon!
> 
> ***I have the dreadful habit of writing for fandoms I know nothing about. Let it be known: I have never actually read the Harry Potter Books or seen the films.


End file.
